


Shoes and Ships

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: F/M, Humor, Series: Cabbages and Kings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-06-12
Updated: 1999-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-10 12:08:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11126715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Part 2 and the mud gets no clearer... This story is a sequel toCabbages and Kings.





	Shoes and Ships

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

(Part II of Cabbages and Kings)

****  
  
**SHOES AND SHIPS**   
  


Sarah McMurkie and Bad Kitty: Their Due Storey continues... 

By Timbeastie Graduc   
  


Usual Disclaimer...ad astra etc belong to whoever/whatever. 

Dedicated to kits everywhere 

Storing Sunday Papers for Swan & Co ;> and last but not least......the Well 

Adjusted Birdie <quack>   
  


**Return to Sender**   
  


Benton Fraser sat at his desk, sighed once, consulted his faithful internal chronometer, groaned softly and grabbed the next invitation. Following a series of rigorously timed self-imposed procedures he carefully addressed the ornately decorated card; ticked the list next to him, initiated an envelope to card interface and rounded this off with a natty piece of precision stamping. Pausing for a second to straighten his back he patted a damp sponge methodically round the gum line and completed the sealing manoeuvre by drawing a firm hand across the flap.   
  


<Only 36 to go heigh ho.> He glanced with some satisfaction at the 214 he had completed since lunch.   
  


"Ah Fraser..." His boss popped her obediently coiffured head round the door.   
  


"Oh you haven't finished them yet then.." she sounded disappointed and came further into his office to stand disapprovingly by his side.   
  


Fraser winced. A certain untoward event earlier that morning had made mincemeat of his schedule. He had even turned up for work half an hour earlier to dispose of this "oh so onerous" task, but that had been before...He winced again and hoped (beyond reasonable expectation) his ultra-observant superior officer wouldn't...   
  


"Constable Fraser! What *is* that?!" Despite having less than perfect eyesight Inspector Thatcher could invariably spot Fraser's minor misdemeanours a mile off. This wasn't so little however.   
  


"Uh you mean the moustache sir?"   
  


"Of course I mean the moustache you moron. What in blue blazes is that doing on the picture of the Queen? And why in the name of James T Kirk haven't you removed it?"   
  


"Well sir. I considered that um the picture should stay where it was until we could find a substitute... and well Constable Turnbull is attempting to find one as we speak, or well as I speak... and well I felt that it would be um lese majeste for the Consulate not to..."<deep breath> "I'm sorry sir. It does look somewhat inappropriate. Perhaps I should take it down now." Fraser half rose from his seat.   
  
  
  


He brightened. "Oh and by the way sir were you aware that Captain Kirk's middle name was Tiberius? I had a great uncle Tiberius..." <Oops!> Recalling the events of the last few days and his relative's decidedly murky past, Benton shut up. This was in no small way aided by Inspector Thatcher's current glacial facial.   
  


"All is not *well* Constable. Quit babbling and answer my question. How did the Official Portrait, hanging on *your* office wall come to be defaced? Clear enough?"   
  


Fraser swallowed. "Ah yes. Marker pen, yes that would be it. Waterbased I believe. I did attempt to remove the ink as you can probably see." He smiled weakly and hesitantly indicated his frankly pathetic efforts at art restoration. Elizabeth II looked like she was having an exceedingly bad mascara day.   
  


Thatcher shut her eyes. Maybe this was another of her recurring Fraser nightmares. Just maybe she would be able to wake up. She pinched herself \- hard - and peeked out. Nope still the same picture of disaster, and the one on the wall was just as bad.   
  


"Who or *what* was responsible?" she gritted. Well you never knew with Fraser.   
  


"Ah now that would be Constable Turnbull's niece, and um I do feel I must take my share of the blame. I should have realised when she asked if she could get a closer look...I just didn't see the pen... Of course if Diefenbaker had come through when I asked him to I might have suspected something."   
  


"Diefenbaker. Your wolf. Why do I see no logical connection there? However I'm sure there must be one, anything's possible where you're concerned.."   
  


The inspector narrowed her eyes. "And just how old was the "artist"?" <This is a legitimate enquiry. It does not indicate any personal interest. I am mad at him. I will *not* be jealous.>   
  


"Four and a half I believe..sir." <Phew! No I am not relieved. I am still mad at him. Wow is he cute when he's under pressure. Mmm, I think I'll just keep going with this!>   
  


<snuffle, whimper>   
  


"Now Diefenbaker it was your own fault. You were sleeping on the job." Benton bent down and scolded the sulking wolf under his desk. "Which I may add was entirely due to your consumption or rather *theft* of Mrs Vecchio's entire batch of amaretto cookies. She was entirely much too understanding about the whole sordid affair.   
  


<pained whimper>   
  


I do not care if you have a hangover. It's not my fault if she adds extra liqueur after baking."   
  


"Constable Fraser.." began his inspector in pseudosweet tones. "If I may just interrupt your very important *meeting* for one teeny second... She bent down anxious to give Fraser the full benefit of her best Dragon Lady firestare.   
  


Dief raised his throbbing head heavily and looked mournfully into her eyes.   
  


"Oh I see." She snickered quietly to herself. Dief had a brand new pair of black spectacles - rather wobbly circles complete with squiggly legs and thick black nose bridge.   
  


"Hmm well." she straightened up quickly before she lost it completely. "I expect those invitations to be completed and in the mail by 2.30 p.m. and I mean 2.30 p.m. constable. As for the picture..." she left the threat hanging much as Fraser would be, by his personal parts if she had any hand in the matter.   
  


She glanced down at the remaining invitations, trying to judge if she had given him enough time.   
  


"Constable Fraser." She opened her mouth again, closed it firmly and started shaking her head rhythmically back and fro.   
  


"Just read this for me will you."   
  


Fraser frowned, pursed his lips and accepted the card. The words "McMurkie Consulate" sprang towards him like a seriously perturbed otter. He made a strangled "ek" sound and began banging his head repeatedly on his desk, moaning "No, no, no." on the rebound.   
  


Thatcher leaned forward and grasped his pelt firmly, which managed to achieve quite the same pain level as the preceding.   
  


"I seem to remember I *trusted* you to get these invitations printed up before you left for your little Canadian jaunt. Perhaps you would like to fill the position of Deputy Liaison Floor Mopper although I'm not entirely sure you'd even be up to that *demanding* post!" <Sometimes cute is just not enough. How could he be so..so..arrghh!>   
  


"Sir?"   
  


Turnbull had returned. He was reverentially carrying a picture of his favourite royal in white gloved hands.   
  


"I brought this from home. I hope it will be acceptable until we get anoth..er?" He raised his eyebrows at the scene confronting him but managed, just, to refrain from comment. 

Thatcher released Fraser's head which promptly bounced off his desk.   
  


"Turnbull. I have a job for you. Come with me." she beckoned the hapless, and by now quivering, constable. Hands on hips she turned her attention to the object of her fury.   
  


"As for you Constable Fraser, I am suspending you from duty until further notice. Go home. Now! I will send for you when I'm good and ready which at this point in time is not likely to be before the next ice age. Scoot! Vamoose!!" With that she fairly hauled Turnbull with her out of the room.   
  


He was going mad. He was definitely well out of his tree and bouncing round the bend. What on earth could he do? The answer had to lie with his father but only because his grandmother had only now let the proverbial cat out of the bag - and what a ferocious feline it seemed to be. He would have to try to get in touch with his parent, but how? His "favourite" ghost surely wasn't going to rematerialise voluntarily. He sighed and scratched the back of his head, carefully avoiding his still painful frisbee wound.   
  


*************   
  


Fraser exited the Consulate quickly and completed the short distance to his apartment in record time. Diefenbaker reluctantly followed his pack leader at a much slower pace while muttering wolfie curses under his still alcoholic breath.   
  


"Fraser's wolf sure does a good Mutley impersonation." commented the Mountie's friendly neighbourhood hoodette trio as the Dief lolloped wearily up the steps.   
  


"Saggin fraggin.." continued Dief grumping on three flights later.   
  


Fraser's solid frame filled the doorway barring his entry.   
  


"That's quite enough bucko. Any more of that and I'll permanently volunteer you for the Cute Clothes for Your Canine Companion group down at the senior citizens' centre. I'm sure you'd be modelling any number of "tasteful" outfits in no time."   
  


"Ulp" gulped Dief suddenly, but unsurprisingly, mute.   
  


**27 th Precinct Blues**   
  


"Hi Benny. Grab a pew. Say where's the uniform? Aren't ya supposed to be on duty?"   
  


"I've been suspended Ray. I committed a gross error and Inspector Thatcher has seen fit to relieve me of my duties temporarily." <I hope.>   
  


"You! A "gross error". Yeah sure Benny. Whaddya do put an extra knot in your lanyard? Nah I can see it now ya forgot to salute the latest delivery of maple syrup from the motherland."   
  


Benton just looked at his unofficial partner.   
  


"Is that supposed to be funny Ray?" he responded stiffly.   
  


"Is that a serious question?"   
  


"I don't believe so. No Ray."   
  


"Geez Fraser. Lighten up will ya! It's not the end of the world. So ya get a few extra day's R'n'R. You sure look as if ya need it. That frisbee musta beaned ya harder than I thought."   
  


A wicked grin crossed Ray's mobile features.   
  


"Say Benny - did ya tell the Inspector about your "accident" then?"   
  


Fraser displayed several telling characteristics of one who has been entirely economical with the truth.   
  


"So ya didn't. Ya chickened out. Tsk tsk Benny." Ray shook his head sadly, his faith in the Mountie wantonly destroyed. However this effect was entirely dissipated by the hugely satisfied smirk which followed.. Benny was part of the human race after all. Ray found the thought strangely comforting.   
  


"Detective Vecchio - if you're not too busy." beckoned Lt Welsh.   
  


"Ah yes sir, I mean no sir." Ray swiftly made his way into Welsh's office. His boss had that *look* about his craggy features which told Ray that he had managed to come top of Welsh's hate list for the day. <What now? The Gorgonzola case? Hummm na, the cheese was fresh. The Soote case then...but Amair lost that one not me..>   
  


"So sir, you wanted to see me?"   
  


Fraser watched curiously as Welsh drew down his office blinds, definitely an ominous sign. <Poor Ray>   
  


***********   
  


"Hi Fraser, how's it going?" Elaine breezed up to Ray's desk and added another six folders to his leaning tower of casefiles. She ran an appreciative eye over Fraser's casual attire.   
  


"Like the shirt. Suits you."   
  


"Thank you kindly Elaine." The ever polite response. Still he always seemed to mean it. 

"Would you happen to know why the Lieutenant's...er.."upset" with Detective Vecchio?" The Mountie reckoned that a change of socks wouldn't get past Elaine in this precinct.   
  


"Sure" <(sigh) Hey this is a new hairstyle, I mean thanks for your thanks but do you ever notice *me*?>   
  


"But I think I should let Ray tell you himself."   
  


"Oh. Well thank you all the same Elaine." Fraser leaned back on Ray's filing cabinet, arms folded, lost in thought.   
  


Elaine stood there feeling ignored, but she really didn't want to elucidate further.. Let Ray spill the beans on *that* particular subject. <How could he?!>   
  


Fraser's head sank pensively to his chest. Elaine continued to admire the view. 

She coughed gently. No reaction. <Oh well girl. Guess it's back to the Double Chocolate Chip.>   
  


Welsh's door opened and Ray stumbled out.   
  


"I mean it detective and you *know* I'm a man of my word." Lt Welsh's tones were smooth but deadly.   
  


"Ah Constable Fraser, perhaps you could escort your friend off the premises?"   
  


Fraser was bewildered. What on earth had Ray done? He turned to Elaine who was looking at Ray as if he had just returned from six months down a sewer. She wrinkled her nose and turned away pointedly.   
  


"Ray?" he began.   
  


"Fraser, just don't ask. I gotta get outta here. Looks like you're not the only one with some spare R'n'R." Ray swept past Fraser, collected his coat, "accidentally" swiped his pile of files crashing to the floor and strode brusquely out of the department.   
  


Fraser hesitated lured by an almost overpowering desire to tidy up. Elaine quickly stepped between the Mountie and his temptation and began to sort the mess herself. Fraser could take a hint and hurried after Ray.   
  


Ray sat in his beloved Riv. The look on his face did not encourage conversation. Fraser had barely belted himself in when the car took off slipping expertly into the traffic flow. Fraser had noticed this before - the more upset Ray was, the better his driving, not slower nor less traffic violations - just somehow, better.   
  


**Fraser's Apartment: 3.46 a.m.**   
  


Fraser sighed and tried to suppress his fourth yawn in a row. It was way way past his bedtime. Ray sat opposite him nursing his 15th cup of coffee. <Ray must have remarkable bladder control> he mused.   
  


"I don't believe it Benny. I just don't. How could she? My own sister!" He gulped down the remaining dregs and banged the mug down. "How could she?" He repeated quietly to himself.   
  


"Are you sure it was Francesca Ray?"   
  


"Of course it was. Welsh showed me her letter."   
  


"How could she...?" Ray had still not told Fraser why he had been suspended. He had just thrown out dark hints and guzzled down mug after mug of Fraser's own "visitors" jar of coffee. Fraser had run out of milk three cups ago, but Ray simply shrugged and went onto black.   
  


Ray raised his bleary caffeine soaked green eyes and looked at Fraser as if he hardly knew him.   
  


"Elaine din't tell you did she?" he slurred.   
  


"No Ray, if you recall we have had this conversation before, namely at 12.20, 1.41 and 2.46. 

Why won't you tell me? I'm your best friend aren't I?"   
  


Ray squirmed. "Nah. How could ya be friends with someone like me? Not now, not after...I just can't tell ya. I better be going. I dunno how I'm gonna face ma though." He got up slowly and made for the door. As he reached for the handle he turned back towards the still seated Mountie.   
  


"Listen Benny I gotta think things through. See ya around."   
  
  
  


After a while Fraser rose automatically and collected Ray's empty mug. He walked over to the sink and turned the taps on full. Water poured over his outstretched hands and he stared down at them mesmerised.   
  


"Benny?" Ray's voice startled him.   
  


Ray stood behind him watching the water as it spilled from the confines of the sink and onto the floor.   
  


"Oh dear." Fraser reached forward and twisted the taps off. Ray delved into his coat pocket and brought out a tightly folded letter. He thrust it into Fraser's damp hands.   
  


"Sorry Benny I guess this'll explain everything. I gotta go an make use of the facilities. See ya - maybe. Maybe ya won't want to." With that Ray fairly rushed out of the room leaving the door swinging open.   
  


Fraser looked down at the paper Ray had given him and placed it carefully on the kitchen counter. He ought to see to the flood first.   
  


The letter lay where Fraser had placed it. Every time he looked at it he felt it was a bomb waiting to explode their friendship. He decided to sleep on it. He was too far tired to think clearly.   
  


************   
  


Ticking from his father's watch seemed to echo round the apartment. Good grief it was half-past four - almost time to get up. No that was wrong - why? He did a double take. Oh yes, he could take all the time in the world. He was suspended; Meg had certainly hung him out to dry.   
  


All the next day the letter stayed in place. Fraser gave it a wide berth. It had an invisible exclusion zone all of its own. The Mountie felt he couldn't contact Ray until he had read it. Pretty soon Ray would think he had read it and didn't want to see him. What could Ray have done? He had swapped one route to madness for another - pretty soon he wouldn't be able to tell the difference between Mickey and Minnie never mind a hawk and a handsaw.   
  


Fraser occupied his suddenly free time with numerous menial tasks, most of which reminded him of Meg in some unfathomable way. Hmm he had certainly put a tad too much starch in his boxers he thought as they perched upright on his new ironing board.   
  
  
  


<muffled woof>   
  


"Dief?" He looked down at his lupine companion.   
  


"What on earth are you doing with that!?" He bent down and snatched the letter from Dief's jaws almost ripping it in his eagerness to retrieve it.   
  


Dief snorted and retreated to his bed. Perhaps Fraser would keep the noise down now - <gnnngh> just how long was this hangover going to last?   
  
  
  


A jumble of words leapt from the page. Unfortunately they soon made sense.   
  


**Raymond Regrets**   
  


Ray stood by his bedroom window. A pile of empty donut boxes littered his unmade bed. At the rate he was stuffing them down he would soon revert to his childhood physique. "Little Ray", yeah that's what they used to call him, only an eight year old child at 120 pounds hadn't been so *little*.   
  


There was a hesitant tap on his door. Ray half turned then turned back. He didn't want to speak to anyone, let alone...   
  


"Ray, hey Raymondo? I know you're in there. C'mon ya know I'm sorry. What more can I say? Talk to me big brother." Francesca sounded genuinely upset.   
  


"I know I shoulda quit with the trick sweets but I was so mad at ya. Angelina went and blabbed what ya told her right in front of everyone at the Vionelli's party. Ya know how loud she gets. Dammit Ray ya can't stay in there forever. Ma says she's gonna start refusing any more donut deliveries and put ya on a health food diet. She's talkin' about lentil and broccoli lasagne....Ray?"   
  


Silence.   
  


"Look Ray how was I ta know Welsh was a bird lover? I mean go figure..first he suspends ya then he says he's gonna sic the cruelty guys on ya, not ta mention the Mounties. <Mmm, that might not be so bad - maybe they'll pick him up in person. Now if they're all as cute as Benton..>   
  


"I guess I really screwed up huh? Listen I'll go and see your lieutenant and explain. Ya saw the letter, I think I kinda went over the top.."   
  


Ray's bedroom door burst open. Her wild-eyed brother stood before her. He was still in his favourite green PJ's. Chocolate sprinkles decorated his lips.   
  


"OVER THE TOP!!" he yelled. "Geez Frannie how on *earth* couldya think that!?" He pointed a long finger at her chest.   
  


"You are going nowhere near Welsh, capisce? I'm in enough trouble as it is without ya digging me deeper in it." With that he slammed the door in her face.   
  


"Right." nodded Francesca to herself. She pulled Ray's car keys from her purse and made her way purposefully downstairs.   
  


Five minutes later Ray could only gape helplessly as his beloved Riv careered out of the driveway. He raised his hands to his eyes in despair then plucked another chocolate cappuccino donut from a nearby box of 12\.   
  


"Ray put that down. That's quite enough swallowing in self pity."   
  


Fraser stood in the doorway, letter in hand. Ray paused the donut half way to his open mouth. As he waited for Fraser to continue he could feel the icing rapidly melting and oozing through his fingers. The Mountie however had assumed his regular statue duty stare and the cop found it impossible to tell what he was thinking. Ray had a sudden childish urge to plaster his sticky hand over Fraser's immaculate features.   
  


"Geez talk to me Frasier. Ya can bawl me out if ya like, just say *sumthin'*."   
  


"The duck Ray. Why didn't you tell me?" Fraser's tone was giving nothing away. 

Ray replaced the donut in its box and wiped his hand absentmindedly down his pyjama top.   
  


"Well.." he began reluctantly. "You were kinda out of it at the time. I mean no one expects a hand carved solid mahogany frisbee. I didn't want to bother ya." He shrugged and passed his hands over his buzz cut.   
  


"How could you? How is it possible that you...you..." Fraser shook Francesca's letter at her brother.   
  


"Yeah well I told Frannie when I got back. I had ta tell someone. You had were still seein' tweetin' birds. Good choice eh? Like how did I know she was still mad at me? Ya got a taste of how she was feelin' \- remember that "mint"?" He shook his head regretfully. 

"Anyways Frannie's version is pretty well embroidered truth wise. Do you want to hear my side?" He looked hopefully at his friend. 

**Flashback Re-dux**   
  


Ian and Flora carried the recumbent form of Ms Fraser to an upstairs bedroom while Ray was left to guard the Nielson triplets and duck. After a quick change Miss MacDonald, sporting a very odd costume indeed, welcomed the local constabulary to her home. The Canadian cops however declined to accept custody of Posh Nielson's beloved fowl. So Ray despite numerous, mostly polite, requests had been left on the doorstep as the brothers in crime were led away to enjoy an extended bout of Canadian hospitality.   
  


As the mountie mobile sped carefully away from the house the duck gave an extra strong wriggle and once again flapped awkwardly to freedom.   
  


"Dammit! Ya benighted bird, I'll get ya. Your goose is cooked this time" yelled Ray and launched himself once again after the creature.   
  


*************   
  


Ray didn't appear again for half an hour and when he did he was looking pretty green around the gills. In his hands he carried the still figure of the duck. A dead duck for sure now. 

"I was running after it and it stopped suddenly and I just stepped on it. I couldn't stop myself. I just heard the crunch and..."   
  


Flora regarded the duck with the eye of an expert on wildlife cuisine.   
  


"Hmm I could do a lovely duck in maple syrup with that."   
  


"Eww no I couldn't." said Ray handing the lifeless body over.   
  


"Well it would hide the evidence." said Ian.   
  


"Evidence!? Whaddya mean?"   
  


"Well Posh loves that bird. He's going to be awfully upset when he finds out. He'll probably sue for cruelty. I believe it may belong to a protected species. You might be in for a hefty fine if not a spell in jail."   
  


Ray blenched. With his volatile reputation and that of American cops in general, how was he 

going to explain this off as an accident? They would surely suspect fowl play. What about his career? He could see himself ending up as one of Fraser's neighbours yet.   
  


"Any witnesses?" asked Flora experimentally plucking some feathers.   
  


"Nah, no one I could see. Oh geez what am I gonna do?"   
  


"First of all I would recommend cleaning your boot." said Flora indicating the mess of blood and feathers. "And going back over your trail." she followed up, pointing at the path of destruction behind him.   
  


"Don't worry." grinned Ian. "I'll think of something. You know I can spin a good yarn." 

Ray groaned. This was getting worse. He would be beholden to Ian MacDonald. Where was Fraser when you needed him? How many more head injuries could the poor guy take?   
  


**Ray Revives**   
  


"I see." said Fraser as Ray finished his sorry tale.   
  


"Yeah so the Canadian authorities are convinced, I think, that my ex-feathered friend was the victim of next door's cat. Only.. it wasn't really a cat it was a 2 month old kitten. Ian's sister caught it and planted the evidence. Geez ya shoulda seen it - *gruesome* feathered furball.. Ray shivered.   
  


"That is until Lt Welsh gets in touch with them. Then who knows - I guess I'll be extradited and have ta do 2 years with time off for good etiquette."   
  


Fraser sniffed at this slur on his country's penal system.   
  


"Do ya believe me Frasier?"   
  


"Only you Ray." Fraser cocked his head to one side and smiled sympathetically at his beleaguered friend.   
  


"I did gain the impression Francesca was "exaggerating" your animosity towards the unfortunate creature. I do feel you and she have an unresolved antagonism petwise...after all you did kill, accidentally I'm sure..her hamster."   
  


"Yeah" Ray nodded sadly. He seemed unable to rise to Fraser's bait. "Now she's gone ta see Welsh to "explain". I'm done for Benny."   
  


"Oh dear. Well she is a capable young woman..." began Fraser.   
  


"Uh huh, capable of shooting my career down in flames. That reminds me I had that nightmare again last night..about the Riv. If anything else happens to my baby I dunno what I'd do."   
  


"Don't worry Ray. I would never let anything happen to your car. I know how much it means to you." reassured Fraser. The Mountie could see how much his friend needed to take his mind off his sister's best intentions. Well he had a problem of his own Ray could help him with.   
  


He shuddered as he recalled how only this morning he had given an elderly nun directions to McMurkie House, passing through McMurkie Park, going along McMurkie Drive. He had reached his fourth McMurkie when the nun reached out and patted his hand "understandingly".   
  


"That's alright my dear. I'm sure I'll get along just fine. You had better run along and find your keep..um..companion."   
  


Five seconds later reality caught up with him then left in the next nanosecond as he stared at the black penguin retreating with no due care or attention across the road. <Oh God this is getting worse...penguin!?>   
  


"Um Ray, I need to get in touch with my father."   
  


Ray passed his hand over the beginnings of a beard.   
  


"Uh Benny. Reality check here - your father..he's been dead for about 2 years now. You remember?" <Tread carefully Vecchio this Mountie's one needle short of a haystack.>   
  


"Yes Ray. I realise that. I mean I have to contact the <oh dear this is going to go down just as well> *ghost* of my father." <Uh oh spot on Benton. Ray looks like he's got me measured for an extra strength straitjacket.>   
  


Fortunately for the Mountie Ray's father decided to pay a short and as usual unwelcomed visit.   
  


"Hey Ray! Hey I'm talking to ya son. Whatcha doin' killin' that &%*$ duck? It's followin' me everywhere now. I tell ya it's peckin' the death outta me!" He shooed his hands at a presence invisible to either his son or his friend.   
  


"Hop to it pop." sniggered Ray as his father skipped round the room.   
  


"Ya ungrateful..." His father's last word was obliterated as he leapt backwards through his son's wardrobe door.   
  


Fraser regarded his friend with some alarm as Ray bent double and hugged his chest, shaking visibly.   
  


"Ray! What's the matter?!"   
  


"S'OK Benny, just the best laugh I've had this century that's all." Tears streamed down Ray's face which was split by an ear to ear grin.   
  


"Ah." said the Mountie sagely.   
  


Ray strolled towards his wardrobe and pulled the door open with a flourish. Somewhat to his disappointment his father's fowl tormented spirit had disappeared. Oh well, he had to get changed anyway. Benny certainly needed him. He hadn't seen the Mountie this confused since...hmm...probably last week actually.   
  


Ray began to look on the brighter side. Somehow Frannie might pull off the impossible. Hey Welsh would probably reinstate him just to get rid of her. <Could work. Frannie in full flow...gee I almost feel sorry for the guy..nah almost but not quite.>   
  


"Right Benny you shoo downstairs and ma'll get ya sumthin' ta eat. You're lookin' kinda peaky ya know. I'll get changed, then we'll go and figure out some way of gettin' in touch with your old man. Deal?"   
  


Fraser pursed his lips and nodded.   
  


"Deal Ray."   
  


**On the McMurkie Trail**   
  


"So Benny ya sure Garrett's workin' here?" Ray didn't sound so sure.   
  


"I believe so Ray. Mr Madison was extremely grateful for his part in his daughter's rescue. I understand he pulled some strings and well you see the result."   
  


"Yeah. So just what am I supposed ta be seein'?" Ray turned full circle, shrugged and looked at his partner.   
  


"I thought it was obvious - look." Benny raised his hand and pointed to a small hut in the middle of what seemed very much like a building site.   
  


"Really obvious Benny. Sticks out like.."   
  


"..the nose on your face." <Whooops!>   
  


Ray's head slowly turned towards his *friend*.   
  


"You got a problem with my nose Frasier?"   
  


"No Ray, not at all. It's very striking. I would say your *most* striking feature." Backtracked the mountie.   
  


"Yeah well I figure your foot fits that."   
  


"My foot Ray?" puzzled the mountie.   
  


"I dunno how you're able ta walk with it stuck in your mouth."   
  


Ray strode forward muttering non too subtle Italian curses under his breath.   
  


"Sorry!" called Fraser hurrying after him. <Ray is *so* sensitive!>   
  


Ray tapped impatiently on the door of the hut.   
  


"Hey Garratt you in there? It's Detective Vecchio and Constable Frasier. The Constable here has a little problem <and a big mouth> he like ya ta help him out with."   
  


He turned to Fraser who had caught up.   
  


"Your call."   
  


"Ah yes. Mr Garrett, I wouldn't ordinarily be inclined to ask such a favour, knowing how painful an experience it can be for you..but frankly I think..I know..I just can't go on like this." Fraser's heartfelt plea softened Ray's hardhearted attitude somewhat.   
  


"What Benny's tryin' ta say is that the bats in his belfry are breedin' fast an he needs ta get a psychic line to his "hellraisin'" youth." <Yeah likely!>   
  


"Actually I would very much like to contact my father Mr Garrett. Only he's er dead. I believe he could furnish me with some information which may pertain to..um.. a youthful indiscretion of mine."   
  


After a pause the door opened slowly and Garrett peered out. His beard had turned almost pure white but he had lost the hunted look provoked by his close encounter with the "brightest" minds of the FBI.   
  


"I'm sorry Constable Fraser. You certainly do look like you are in need of assistance..but how can I help? I don't summon the spirits of the dead you know. I really try to avoid such things." Garrett shrank back as if simply speaking about the subject would provoke an netherworld reaction.   
  


"Well you're the only one either of us could come up with. Couldn't ya at least give it a go?"   
  


Fraser pulled a small package from his leather jacket and held it out.   
  


"This is my father's second best lanyard. I have the feeling it has something to do with whatever's happening to me."   
  


Garrett opened the door wider and ushered both men into the gloom of the small hut. There were only two chairs and a small bare wooden table inside. Garrett sat down and took the lanyard from the Mountie.   
  


He held it tightly in both hands and shut his eyes. Images began to form in his mind...   
  
  
  


**Out of the murky depths...**   
  


Benton walked miserably along the seashore. The sky was azure blue overhead and little wavelets lapped the beach, dappled by strong sunshine. He could have been making his way through an industrial wasteland for all he cared - all he could think about was Sarah.   
  


"Meow!"   
  


His nemesis stood before him triumph oozing from every feline pore. Benton and the cat eyed one another. Ben turned away first. Kitty had won again. He looked out to sea seeking inspiration...   
  


A blue and white plastic puffer bobbed gently on the waves thoroughly caught between the rocks near the beach. It looked thoroughly weatherworn but still serviceable. Ben grinned to himself. It was not a nice grin. It was the sort grin small boys wear when planning truly grounded for weeks/months/years type deeds. This was no exception. Ben's passion for Sarah was to drive him to desperate measures.   
  


Bad boy Benton put a squirming, scratching and spitting Bad Kitty on the boat, roped her in with some spare string he happened to have handy and launched her for a life on the ocean waves.   
  


Poor kitty meowed pitifully and loudly but Benton hardened his heart against her cries. He clapped his hands to his ears and swiftly turned away, breaking into a run. His heart pounded but his imagination still provided faint mews over the thudding beats.   
  


His conscience (dressed in full Mountie reds) jolted up and down on his right shoulder, trying to keep its balance.   
  


"Benton Fraser! How *could* you? I'm so ashamed of you. What would your father say? Or your dear departed mother? How can you ever become a Mountie after this?"   
  


On his other shoulder sat another small figure also clad in red, but this time sporting a tail and horn motifs on his head.   
  


"Nah come on! Are you a man or a mouse? That cat had it in for you. Don't listen to that wimp. You did great. You don't want to be a Mountie anyway. I mean this uniform - gack! Forget the puffy pants! A pirate now that's a job for a real man. Buckle your swash Benton me lad. We'll run away to sea."   
  


But Benton stopped short suddenly appalled by his actions. Angel Mountie beamed beatifically at Demon Mountie who scowled fiendishly. Benton felt a weight lift from his shoulders, and it wasn't just the disappearance of his spiritual advisors. He knew he was better than this. If he was quick he might just save the poor creature he had just tried to relieve of its existence.   
  


**Dark Shadow**   
  


Garrett breathed heavily and his eyes snapped open.   
  


"So what happened.?!" Ray was impatient to discover whether his friend was a kitty killer.   
  


"I'm sorry. That's all I'm getting. I think that's enough though. Don't you constable?"   
  


Benton nodded dumbly. Long suppressed memories flooded back then stopped abruptly - he could remember no further than Garrett.   
  


His legs could no longer support him and he sank heavily into the spare chair. How could he "maintain the right" when he had..he might have.. <Oh Ray, at least you thought your sister's hamster could swim!>   
  


"Benny are ya alright?"   
  


Garrett placed the lanyard precisely on the table beside Fraser's elbow.   
  


"I think you had better go now."   
  


"C'mon Benny." urged Ray.   
  


Fraser picked up his father's lanyard and put it carefully in his pocket.   
  


He rose slowly from the chair.   
  


"Thank you kindly Mr Garrett. I appreciate your efforts on my behalf." He raised his hand to his absent hat and smoothed his hair down instead.   
  


Fraser put his best foot forward and almost stumbled against Ray.   
  


"Hey Benny, watch out will ya."   
  


"Sorry Ray I guess I lost my balance for a second. Perhaps I got up too quickly." The Mountie avoided Ray's eyes and exited quickly into the bright sunshine. ****  
  


Ray frowned, scratched his head and went after him.   
  


"Oh Benny did I forget ta tell ya. Frannie's gettin' her combined PhD in Nuclear Physics and Neurosurgery next week and you're invited."   
  


"That's simply not true Ray. It can't be..can it?"   
  


It was Fraser's turn to look puzzled and he was doing a very good job of it too.   
  


"Ya got up too quickly Benny? I think not! What gives?"   
  


A shiver ran down Benton's spine. Had he just tripped over the shadowy figure of a small black and white kitten? Had Bad Kitty returned to spook him?   
  


**THE END**   
  


Note:   
  


1\. Or is it? <evil snicker> The beastie slinks off....pad..pad...pad....   
  



End file.
